


Amber Tinted Gold

by nuka_cherries



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Introspection, Light Angst, Mental Health Issues, One Shot, Whiskey & Scotch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28443471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuka_cherries/pseuds/nuka_cherries
Summary: At twenty-two, Sara Ryder swore to herself that whiskey was no longer going to be for sad nights and rainy days.
Kudos: 3





	Amber Tinted Gold

**Author's Note:**

> In my freshman year of college of Spring 2017, I wrote a prose poem themed around giving a toast. And in August 2018, I wrote this nearly fic centered around whiskey.
> 
> And in December 2020, I remixed it and made it to the fic it is today.

In the Milky Way, whiskey was for sad nights and rainy days.

At least that was the association Sara Ryder had after the loss of her mother. The clink of the bottle’s mouth meeting the frosted iced glass in her father’s study became a sound so familiar like an automatic door shutting or the chirp of the keys on her omni-tool. 

The clink was a sound now synonymous with the grief, sadness and despair that seemed to cling to the atmosphere of their three-bedroom home in the Citadel.

But she was the oldest of two, even if it was for a few minutes difference. Sara had to be the strong one when her family fell apart at sixteen.

So, at twenty-two years old, when she packed for the Andromeda initiative, she brought a bottle of her father’s best whiskey from the habit he left behind. And she vowed to herself, to the memory of her mother that she wouldn't drink it unless it were for celebration. That the bottle was for celebration and not for the original association. Not for sad nights and rainy days, but for birthdays and New Year’s celebrations. No, the amber tinted liquid was to be shared with her friends, with her brother, with her squad mates to celebrate.

At, twenty-two, Sara Ryder swore to herself that whiskey was no longer going to be for sad nights and rainy days. 

* * *

When Sara Ryder was put into cryostasis, part of her was sure she was going to die at one point during her six-hundred-year long journey.

It happened in all the old earth sci-fi movies before the discovery of interstellar travel. It was waved off as a theory during the 20th century, before it being made into a reality in the beginning of the initiative stages.

Unlike her expectations of cryo-sleep being filled with memories she had tried to forget, or with a nightmare that felt like an eternity she couldn’t wake up from, she didn’t dream when she was put to cryo-sleep.

She didn’t remember the good times or the good friends she would leave behind and outlive on her one-way trip to another galaxy. Her mind didn’t trudge down the fragmented, repressed road of memory lane.

To her relief, her mind was filled with the darkness of empty unconsciousness. The empty night sky in her dreams was a deep shade of purple, the color a comfort like her favorite shade of lipstick.

Deep violet was a comfort to her, like the color of stars outside her window. It reminded her of the Citadel. It reminded her of home. It reminded her of the last few months before she left the Milky Way of when she met Commander Shepard, one of the most important people she would ever meet.

“No need to ask permission, Miss Ryder,” was her amused, genuine response when Ryder asked if she could mirror her makeup routine. Meeting Shepard, _the_ Commander Shepard, had been spectacular, all smiles and a small hint. She had just saved the world from Sovereign. And she may have fallen a little in love then.

Part of her heart would be for Commander Shepard and she felt honored enough that she would carry the love for her into another galaxy. 

Growing up on the most important space station in all the Milky Way made her accustomed to quite literally living along the stars. She supposed all the inhabitants of the galaxy lived amongst the stars in the metaphorical sense.

But now, she would be among new stars. And new constellations. New friends to make and new people to see. 

But she thought about Shepard and their handful interactions. How she said goodbye three weeks before she set out for Andromeda. Before she said goodbye to the Milky-Way.

Sara wondered that if Commander Shepard were here, would the stars shimmer on her like they did that night in the Citadel?

* * *

Liquor was numbing, a depressant.

Back on the Milky-Way, Sara had spent a solid year after turning 21 going through the worst of it. And she learned about other liquor than whiskey. She learned the cheapness behind bear. The bitter hug of vodka. She learned how to mix a drink in Citadel nightclubs with temporary friends and chatty bartenders. 

Ryder liked that about liquor. She liked that about the buzz. It blocked out the demons, blocked out the noise. Blocked out the static, even if it was for a few brief moments. SAM couldn’t do much for the anxiety and nervousness in her head, and even he was a cause of some of it.

One thing Sara Ryder didn’t know she missed about cryo-sleep was the silence.

Because now that she was wide awake, her mind was filled with noise.

There was noise inside her head, voices and memories overlapping. Her helmet cushioned her from the echo of the gunshot rounds fired on the kett. 

But putting on her helmet just brought the same damned memory back; of suffocating in the toxic air and her father struggling to breathe as he placed the helmet over her head. 

If she was honest with herself, she did not feel ready to lead the trek into Andromeda. 

But she was the Pathfinder. She was a beacon of hope, a pioneer of humankind, an immigrant from another galaxy. But she couldn’t add up or even be close to what her dad used to be.

She couldn’t complain, because she’s humanity’s last hope. Was she? How did Shepard do this? What would Shepard do? It wasn’t like she could call up Shepard and ask. 

Even if she mirrored her routine, she was _nothing_ like Commander Shepard, who was she kidding?

She had a voice inside her head that guided her into the expanse of a brand-new galaxy, her only remaining family is in a coma. It seemed like nothing was going her way lately. 

Cora was more qualified than she was. Liam was more qualified than she was. Her brother always got higher marks than her. He was more qualified. 

Then there was Scott. 

Hearing that her brother wasn’t awake from his coma yet was the cherry to the shit-is-all-fucked-up sundae she didn’t know life had ordered for her.

She thanked the doctor for his update and for watching over her brother. She cut the transmission. She then retreated to her quarters.

And she pulled open the cabinet and counted to ten. To twenty. To fifteen. And she swore to herself again that whiskey was for celebrations, not for tears. 

So, she put away the bottle and took a deep breath. Tomorrow would be another day in a brand new world. And it would get better. 

She could do this. She had to. She had gone through this many times before. 

After all, she was the Pathfinder.

And she would find a way through.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I got more Mass Effect fic & assorted fandoms in stock if y'all are interested in checking out!


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